Despite its name, origins, and rustic locale, Pickathon has become the most modern and innovative music festival around. Both operationally and stylistically, it's pushing ahead.

This was drilled into me not only by my time on Pendarvis Farm over the weekend, but by the three other festivals I've attended in the last month (Sled Island, in Calgary; the Capitol Hill Block Party, in Seattle; and Portland's Project Pabst). Each of those events lag by comparison. And I'm not just talking about creature comforts, corporate sponsorship, or modern media presence. I'm talking about taste. Here Pickathon is—by far—the most of-the-moment.

Those other three festivals (and, while we're at it, the majority of summer shindigs) leaned heavily on headliners and top-billings who're well past their prime (see: Television and De La Soul at Sled Island, Blondie and Weezer at Project Pabst, or Built to Spill at the Block Party). And while some find ease or solace in nostalgia, I find the re-treading mostly a stone bore. Surprise me. Show me something new. And to that end, Pickathon provided. There was hardly a legacy act to be found. The Main Stage was headlined each night, respectively, by Cloud Nothings, Tune-Yards, and Leon Bridges—all artists in the midst of initial creative ascent.

Such was the case up and down this year's bill. Most noteable performers were either only a few years in or a few records deep. (In this case, that made the 34-year-old Langhorne Slim one of the festival's more grizzled vets.) Pickathon also got out in front by booking a number of acts early—the farm marked Wolf People's first performance on the West Coast, and Kamasi Washington's first time at a summer festival. Indeed, there were fresh faces and styles.

Alongside Tune-Yards and Shabazz Palaces, Sinkane proffered the most innovative approach. The London-based group, led by Ahmed Gallab, are astoundingly omnivorous, blending sounds and rhythms from across the globe. The songs were polyglot, with inclusion of African rhythms, Caribbean ease, snippets of electronics, Stevie Wonder's funky rocksichord, psychedelic guitars, and so on. At times, the group meandered into wah-wah-heavy noodle-shredding. But when they hit, they hit, particularly on newer compositions like "Young Trouble" and "How We Be." If those become the floor, as both a pop writer and auteur, Gallab will soon become a global force (and producer) to be reckoned with.

Backstage, Gallab was seen palling around with Leon Bridges, another youngster who has already been anointed. Watching Bridges off-stage was interesting—it's almost as if he's parlayed being almost painfully uncool into something untouchable. Except, as I learned interviewing him earlier this year, he's just a real earnest sweetheart.

Over the weekend I saw Bridges twice, in the Barn and on the Main Stage, and it's hard to imagine him playing a venue smaller than the Barn ever again (at least outside of some horrible corporate promotion). Oddly, though, in that packed, pressure-cooked environment, Bridges did not wholly transcend. The set was top-heavy, and peaked early. Part of this, I imagine, is because Bridges is still so green—he's got a marvelous voice and presence, but plenty to learn about working a crowd, letting a set breathe, and so on. It's also due to having a thin catalog. Bridges has one record, and it's hard to believe that a number of the songs in the current setlist will continue filling it out next year. (I also suspect that Bridges, who came up a guitar player, is still figuring out what to do with his body now that he's been relieved of instrumental duties.) He faired better on the Main Stage, in the cooler air, and the relaxed pace of Sunday evening.

The opposite was true of of JD McPherson, an early rock 'n' roll throwback from Tulsa, Oklahoma. The closer you get to get to McPherson and his fantastic, exquisitely coiffed band, the better. On the Main Stage Saturday, that distance was too great. But in the Woods on Sunday, at eye level, he closed the gap, putting on a sweaty, stomping, triumphant set, all the while declaring his love for Pickathon. And while most assuredly a reverent rock traditionalist, McPherson too is reaching out a bit, tonally and texturally—a new song featured bits of almost '80s-like synth-wave before plunging back into plinking rock stomp.

In the Barn on Friday, Kamasi Washington and his big band of collaborators offered Pickathon a taste rarely found at summer festivals: jazz. Washington's turning heads because his mostly instrumental compositions, with complex melodic runs and extended solos appeal to traditionalists, while the group's heave and cool thump invoke the roots of LA rap. I was most struck by the Washington's two pounding drummers. They slammed, braided, tumbled, tussled, cascaded, pulled, pushed, and popped. The two nimble yet heavy hitters were akin to an entire corps. Almost every member of Washington's ensemble seemed to lead a song (perhaps of their own writing). The bassist's was a standout. It was less jazzy, more Funkadelic, a real fire-cracker.

Oddly enough, the rock band that followed Washington's jazz ensemble had a more nuanced feel for one another. Indeed, in their own intra-band conversation of Zeppelin-inspired complex yet flowing druid-rock, Wolf People were astounding listeners. (Part of the disparity, no doubt, is due to sound, the number of members, etc... But jesus, these four dudes from the UK were profoundly simpatico.)

Each respective player of Wolf People was virtuosic, particularly the lead guitarist, whose tone and effortless precision was astounding. The group's dynamic range and control were as impressive as any I've seen in recent years. Conversely (which I liked), the group had almost no charisma beyond the profundity of their playing and togetherness.

In brief, there were a handful of other sets I enjoyed over the weekend, including Meatbodies' lip-stick smacking, dead-eyed, dum-dum pop glam. Total Babes, a group of homely dudes, put on the punkest set of the fest, purveying their trademark Cleveland disdain to a nearly empty room. It was criminal. They were marvelous. With a festival-sized backing band, Tune-Yards was a goofy good time, but I got higher during the more stripped down moments when Merril Garbus got back to looping. I was sad to miss Jessica Pratt, and surprised how efficiently Tinariwen got to third gear but never rose above it.

It should be noted that the slightly relocated Treeline Stage swelled enormously this year, which is a solid option for bigger acts. And, thankfully, the bulbous, obstructing video camera crane in the Woods is no more.

As always, the festival ran like clockwork, though some sets seemed determined to wait for the proper broadcast window even though they appeared all but ready to begin otherwise. (Such was the case with Leon Bridges, as the band gathered side-stage for a good 10 minutes after sound-check was complete.) Indeed, multimedia at Pickathon marches on. A mosh pit for Meatbodies was corralled by shirt-wearing security, who were determined the videographers remain unmolested. At one point a member of Viet Cong announced a stunning number of people were watching online. (I'd love to know just how many...)

Now, if video streaming is what subsidizes our ability to experience small shows up close on Pendarvis Farm (rather than, say, at the Capitol Hill Block Party, on a video screen standing 100 yards from a gigantic stage) I'm all for it—just so long as the live experience and the moment remains paramount.

(And on that note, when there's a professional, multi-camera video and sound set up, there's even less need to take videos with your shitty phone and selfie stick. Fucking stop that shit, you're ruining it for everyone. Nobody—not even you—wants to see that footage of the back of the guitarist from Leon Bridges.)

Maybe Pickathon's innovation here will helps us as well—if they do such a robust job with the media that you won't have to. You can just be present, and enjoy the goddamn moment.

Not holding my breath, but still, to that I say, Pickathon, continue forward march!

Further reading:
• Pickathon Diaries: Ty Segall, Kamasi Washington, Wolf People, and More
• Pickathon Diaries: Top 10 Things I Wish I’d Known Before Going to Pickathon
• A (Rather Long) Pickathon Reading List
• Wolf People: A Series of Tests
• Kamasi Washington: Rebirth of the Cool
• Alice Gerrard: Homeward Bound