It’s wild to me—as it is to so many friends and literally every single person I talked to over the weekend—that I had never been to Pickathon until this, the farm music festival's 25th year.

I never understood it, I never got why anyone would pay so much money to see a line-up that, yes, always has a handful of really incredible artists, but is largely composed of smaller local bands and a slew of international artists not yet well known in the Northwestern United States. 

That was my attitude until I finally went to Pickathon this past weekend, drinking deeply from the Kool-Aid punch bowl of music, yes, but also the forest camping above the festival, the immense food offerings, and all the little ins and outs explained by friends who have been attending the festival religiously for years—making it an experience fully worth the monetary, emotional, and physical costs of the cherished weekend.

Friends of mine have been rolling deep to Pickathon every year for over a decade, inviting me every time. My biggest hesitation had always been the fact that I only knew a small number of artists each year, making the tickets not worth the cost. I reasoned I would only be enjoying a fraction of the festival’s programming—but that preconceived notion is now blown fully out of the water, and it remains suspended somewhere over the forests around Happy Valley.

When deciding who to see, on any given day, I've found the move is to ask your friends and (not my usual modus operandi) talk to strangers about what they've either loved or who they’re excited to catch next. I’m used to festivals like Project Pabst and Sasquatch! that have undeniably stacked lineups, where your personal schedule for the fest almost creates itself. Pickathon challenges the festival-goer to be open to catching new acts that you heard a boisterous group talking about, just a few minutes prior. 

The big draws for me this year were established favorites, including Portugal. The Man and Haley Heynderickx, along with smaller, or more local acts like Dougie Poole, Jenny Don’t & the Spurs, and Michael Hurley (RIP to Bad Mr. Mike—a huge thank you to Pickathon and those who lead the gorgeous tribute to the folk music outsider).

What a fool I was! Just think of all the incredible music I (and you?) have missed over the years because I didn’t get it!

The biggest thing I didn’t get is related to the incredible exchange of energy between artist and audience—a line that blurs more deeply at Pickathon than any other festival I’ve ever been to. Most Pickathon performers play two sets, on two different stages, at two different dates/times. Some even play three sets. This allows the audience to 1) catch mostly everyone they want to see, 2) choose their own adventure vibe-wise (the energy at Galaxy Barn is going to be wildly different than that of the Windmill or Grove stages), and 3) clock some of the artists walking around after you've seen their sets, creating a space to more naturally connect with your new favorite bands. 

All the biggest standouts of this year’s festival are artists I’d never heard of before: The early Sunday afternoon Woods Stage set by Jimetta Rose & the Voices of Creation was, in fact, church—I now pray daily at Jimetta’s alter (Mercury writer Jenna Fletcher said she had never seen so many white people learn how to two-step at once).

Catching the second set by Turkish psych-rockers Derya Yildirim & Grup Şimşek became top priority after their initial Friday night Woods appearance—at which people were openly weeping.

The absolute music and gear nerds of Naarm, Australia’s Surprise Chef blew both their audiences away with their flavor of loungy elevator tropicália.

And after Bogotá, Colombia’s Frente Cumbiero tore it up at Cherry Hill on Saturday, there is no doubt in my mind that their set in the Galaxy Barn left that audience with some big bruises and bigger smiles.

A huge shout also has to be given to Tacoma’s J.R.C.G. who were my very first Pickathon set to see—they burned the Galaxy Barn down on Friday afternoon. Their world-influenced improvisational jazz and noise music was the perfect high octane energy-setter for the weekend that had the entirety of the press/backstage section of the Barn rocking so hard.

I’ll be back next year with bells to catch not only the music, but the free workshops, yoga, art installations, and curated artist dinners as well. I’ve drunk the Pickathon Kool-Aid, and it tastes like more.