OK, so good intentions and all that. I had planned to offer a daily blow-by-blow of the Mission Creek Festival, and here it is a week after it got done, and I’ve yet to make good on the promise. Here’s what happened: life got in the way. The busiest week and work I’ve had in years coincided with the festival, so I was lucky to see all of the shows I did, let alone report on them. So, here, with a week’s worth of hindsight, is a quick wrap-up, highlighting all the bands I saw.

British Sea Power: A review I read of the band’s new album said something to the effect that BSP had made another compelling record that was once again free of hooks. That sounds harsh, but in a way, it’s true.  Save for the chantlike first single, “Who’s in Control?” there is nothing from the set I can recall, and certainly nothing I found myself humming even as I walked back to my car after the show. Yet it was a pretty great set, an arena-sized performance crammed into a small club. Roaring guitars, inventive songs and a slithering violin snaking through the proceedings made this a great way to start the festival. Openers A Classic Education have internalized whole genres that petered out before they were born, offering up a nice mix of shoegaze and Sarah Records-era pop.

Railroad Earth: I described this as jam band bluegrass, and that comes as close to the truth as anything. Great, fast picking, wonderful harmonies, and songs that went on far too long. When the band played together, it was really nice. When the individual members took interminable solos, not so much. I saw five songs in 45 minutes and, having had my fill, took off. The beauty of the all-access pass.

Jeff Tweedy: This was probably the most entertaining and most puzzling show of the fest. I had read a review of Tweedy’s show from the previous night, which reported that the crowd was unruly and obnoxious. I began to wonder about halfway through the set if that’s something Tweedy brings on himself. He’s not obnoxious, far from it. But he has developed a sharp wit and a masterful stage presence, and it is as if his stance –whether by design or default — seems to encourage the crowd to test him. So, while his song choice and performance was top-notch as always — a solo version of “Wilco (the song)” proving he can do just about anything in that context — the crowd took things out of his hand for a while. At one point, a drunken girl shouted, “my dad is the mayor of Cedar Rapids!” “Now we know who you are,” Tweedy said. He subsequently played the Handsome Family’s “So Much Wine” as a sort of kiss off.

Thurston Moore/Kim Gordon: This was the let down of the festival. A Q&A with the Sonic Youth founders that was moderated by University of Iowa professor Kembrew McLeod was often boring, with the two laconic artists rarely engaged, and McLeod’s questions ranged from too specific to too self-serving (yes, you know Public Enemy. Good for you). A show later that evening with the amazing drummer Chris Corsano was also a dud. The pair had promised two sets — one of noise, the other of “song-based” material. Instead, we got one slightly longer set of noise, capped with a slightly less noisy song where Kim Gordon “sang.” I had hoped for material like that found on Moore’s fairly brilliant Trees Around the Academy release, but instead got the typical head-down noodling and feedback that is interesting only in the service of a song.

Guided by Voices: This was the highlight of the festival. Anyone who reads this with any regularity knows GBV is my favorite band, so the chance to see the reunited group about a mile from my house (after having traveled to Minneapolis and Chicago to see them last fall) was wonderful. Of the three reunion shows I saw, this was the best. I think the size of the room and my proximity account for much of that, but the set, having evolved to include a few tracks from Mag Earwhig! and excluding much of Mitch Mitchell’s ridiculous rap on the too-long reimagining of “Lethargy,” didn’t hurt. They’re playing Pitchfork and a few other places, but I think I’m sated now.

Kurt Vile: I didn’t get the hype about Vile until hearing his new album. There, promising moments coalesced into promising songs. In a live setting, some of the songs were elevated, the energy of performance giving them an extra kick. Others sagged, missing the atmosphere of the studio. Overall, the sound was less nuanced, more forecful, sounding for all the world like a second-tier Seattle band from the early 1990s (that’s not a slight; that second tier takes up significant shelf space in my CD collection). That new album and Vile’s performance moved him up my list from “mild curiousity” to “one to watch.”

Wye Oak: I’ve missed Wye Oak the past few times they have played town, but I won’t again. I’ve really liked their three albums, but I loved their set. Everything clicked for me seeing them live. Jenn Wasner is a monster on the guitar, and Andy Stack is dextrous and assured as he plays drums and keyboards simultaneously. Going back to listen to the albums after seeing the show, they have added depth and color. What a great band.

OK, so I had good intentions of doing daily reviews/wrap ups of the Mission Creek Music Festival. Thing is, staying out until 1 a.m. five nights in a row does something to yours truly. So, you instead get this post after the last show closed and I squeezed in a nap. Kiss always said if it’s too loud, you’re too old (more on that later); Gene Simmons didn’t have any sort of nap-related slight against aging rockers, so I guess I’m still in good stead.

Starting with the oldest show and working my way back to the present, we’ll begin with Thursday night’s panel discussion of Public Enemy’s Fear of a Black Planet. The album was released in March 1990, so this April 1 panel was a few days off from being the official 20th anniversary. No matter, by bringing together Chuck D, the Bomb Squad’s Keith and Hank Shocklee and “Media Assassin” Harry Allen, the panel brought the noise. Allen began by sharing some photos of his three fellow panelists in their earliest days, pre-PE, when they were known as the Spectrum City DJs. From there, the discussion, led by University of Iowa professor Kembrew McLeod, was wide ranging. They discussed technology, the racial climate, the way sampling laws (or the lack thereof) made it an album of its time and more. It was illuminating, entertaining, funny and even heart-warming to see these four men still sharing the bonds that helped to create one of music’s best albums.

From there I took in a little of Caroline Smith and Headlights, and would have a hard time distinguishing the two in a blindfold test. Each offered pleasant female-fronted indie rock with most of the edges polished. I had grand plans of somehow balancing the desire to see a Bomb Squad DJ set, Pedro the Lion’s David Bazan and Acid Mother’s Temple, all booked at the same time. All I caught was AMT, which was (sorry, Gene) too loud at that late hour. I caught one song and then headed out (I’ve seen them twice before, so my indie cred is still secure).

Friday brought a rousing set from the improbably still strong Meat Puppets. Curt Kirkwood began the set on acoustic guitar, but thanks to his chops and a few pedals, there was no lack of fireworks. They opened with “Plateau” from Meat Puppets II, and the response from the young crowd had me wondering if they knew it wasn’t a Nirvana cover. The Kirkwood brothers (whose Cris Kirkwood looked a good two decades older than he ought to chronologically, more on that later, too), played a nice cross section of their back catalog, and sprinkled in some well-chosen oddities like Freddy Fender’s “Wasted Days and Wasted Nights.”

I next caught VV Brown, a British R’n'B/dance pop singer that I had never heard of before this week. I have a feeling she’s going to be big. Little Dragon followed, but their empty dance pop lost me quickly, and I headed to see electronic artist Tim Hecker. I have and enjoy his albums, but was not at all prepared for the onslaught that awaited. The bar where he performed has a front room with a stage and a back room with the bar. The only lights in the place were in the bar room, meaning the stage was completely dark. For all I know, Hecker pressed “play” on his laptop and then went to dinner. I was physically unable to go check to see what he was doing because of the sheer noise. It was a wonderfully enveloping sound, like what it must be like to be dropped into the world’s most tuneful bit of manufacturing equipment, but as with AMT, it was too loud.

I’m glad I saved my hearing, for Saturday was the best night of the festival. It began with Camera Obscura playing to a packed house (side note: I find the older I get, the less of a grasp I have on an act’s relative popularity). It was a good set that got better as it progressed. I left halfway, content to be left wanting more (and wanting to more fully explore the band’s catalog) so I could catch Iowa City legend Greg Brown.

Brown is a favorite, and he didn’t disappoint. He started out solo acoustic, playing songs new and old. He then was joined by longtime foil Bo Ramsey on guitar and an out-of-town bass player, who gave the second half of his set a little kick. He played old favorites like “Your Town Now” and some new tracks that bode well for what would be his first new album since 2006′s The Evening Call. He was joined for the encore by his wife, singer Iris DeMent, and his daughters, which include songwriter Pieta Brown, who opened the show.

Another local favorite, the Diplomats of Solid Sound, offered a lesson in the perils of taking things for granted. I’ve seen the band dozens of times and am friends with a couple of the guys. Seeing them in a packed, sweaty club was a revelation. This is like a Stax soul review brought to life, and I was glad for the chance to be reminded just how good they are. One song from Cory Chisel and the Wandering Sons showed that there there is no end to the ways a singer-songwriter can play earnest folk-rock, and that was enough (I’ve heard he can be a soulful performer, so I’m willing to give him another chance soon).

He got short shrift because Husker Du’s Grant Hart was playing down the block. At one time, Hart’s band would fall into the “too loud” category, but not this night. Like Cris Kirkwood, he looked a good 10 years older than he is, and seemed to be a thread or two this side of crazy. Though his newest album is a pretty straight up garage-rocking affair, he instead played mid-tempo tunes that seemed more twisted Brill Building. It felt as if he was channelling Alex Chilton, indulging some personal passion while raising a middle finger to the kids who just want to hear “Girl Who Lives On Heaven Hill.” Then he said, “What would you like to ignore next?” by way of asking for requests. Someone asked for “She Floated Away” from Warehouse: Songs and Stories, and he indulged it. It was ragged, but nice to hear. He then went back to lesser-known work before closing with “Never Talking to You Again” from Zen Arcade. It seemed like a nice nod to old fans until one realizes that the song ends with the line, “I’m tired of wasting all my time, trying to talk to you.”

So, it was a great fest overall, with some great new discoveries (Dinosaur Feathers), some pleasant reminders (Meat Puppets) and some truly strange fare (Hecker and Hart). My one beef: the scheduling could have been better. Camera Obscura and Greg Brown were the two big draws Saturday night, for instance, and they were scheduled within 10 minutes of each other. I know it’s a headache to schedule 50-plus bands at six venues over five days, but I’d like to see more done next year to address this.

That aside, it was a rousing success for Mission Creek no. 5. Looking forward now to no. 6.

I had been curious about, Potato Hole, Booker T. Jones’ 2009 album with the Drive by Truckers and Neil Young, but had never bothered to do anything to satisfy that curiosity. With plans to catch him at the Mission Creek Music Festival on Wednesday, I decided it was time to seek it out. I’m glad I did, for the songs from this pummeling disc would otherwise have been a jarring introduction to the show.

As it was, I fully anticipated it (and having seen a setlist from a September 2009 show, I knew, it seems, exactly what to expect) and enjoyed it. For those in the audience expecting some polite organ-based soul music a la “Green Onions,” however, it must have been a shock. It was the loudest show I’ve seen in Iowa City’s Englert Theatre, an energetic blast that could have used a larger crowd made up of people with more energy to feed off the band.

Jones started with three tracks from that new album, with his band doing a capable, if too-polished job of recreating the bombast of the DBTs. Jones seems to know intuitively how much is too much, because after that he shifted into more of what people likely expected. That part of the show began with “Green Onions,” and then shifted into a vocal showcase for Jones. Hearing his pleasant voice, I wondered why he hadn’t sung more in his career. He handled “Born Under a Bad Sign,” a song he wrote for Albert Collins, ably, then even shifted to guitar for a couple of tunes. Hearing his very mannered, tame version of Sam & Dave’s “Hold On (I’m Comin’)” explained why he didn’t sing more. It was fine, but the song begs for a belter, and Jones’ delivery was too polite. The band also tackled “(Sittin’ on) the Dock of the Bay,” and Jones voice, though no match for the mighty Otis Redding, was a better fit here. He and the MGs played on both songs, giving him a chance to indulge in a bit of history.

He returned to the organ then offering hits like “Hip Hug Her, “Hang ‘Em High” and “Time is Tight.” The later “Melting Pot,” gave the band the chance to really stretch out, with his two guitarists playing some blistering solos. They closed with the cover of Outkast’s “Hey Ya” found on Potato Hole, a nice rave-up to send people out into the night, but one that probably fell flat with an audience that skewed older and likely didn’t know the source material, no matter its ubiquity a few years ago.

It was a satisfying, long set from a veteran who is rightly known as a legend. The only drawback is that his set was so long that I missed Tune-Yards, whose last note rang out as I made my way down the street to that venue. The capacity crowd was raving about the set as they streamed out for fresh air, so here’s hoping they make it back.

Next up: A discussion of Public Enemy’s Fear of a Black Planet featuring Chuck D and the Bomb Squad, David Bazan, Acid Mother’s Temple and more.

So, the annual Mission Creek Music Festival in Iowa City is ramping up, and a couple of shows on Tuesday helped to set the stage for what promises to be a memorable four-day stretch from now through Saturday. I caught two shows and the result was pretty much what I expected.

First up, Dinosaur Feathers, a fantastic new Brooklyn combo that earns some comparisons to Vampire Weekend thanks to its jaunty, poppy sound. But what sets DF apart is a lot of great harmony singing. The band’s songs are tight and sprightly, with solid melodies and simple instrumentation. The harmony singing, however, elevates what might otherwise be fairly standard songs. All three members sing, often tackling countermelodies that add some texture. Musically, the band’s set up of bass strummed more like a guitar, finger-picked acoustic guitar and keyboards is augmented by rather elaborate drum-machine beats. That worked fine for this very small, laid-back venue, but the lads will need a real live drummer if they expect to get anywhere. That said, the songs from the group’s debut, Fantasy Memorial, were very nice, proving they can do more than record.

That show wrapped up in time to go catch a few songs by the Cave Singers. I had heard of, but not heard the band before seeing the show, and that left me with a strange reaction. Had I heard the band’s two solid albums beforehand, I likely would have been disappointed in the lack of nuance in its live sound. As it was, I was simply surprised at the descriptions I’d read, which seemed to be for a different band. The room was packed, which didn’t help my reaction, and the awful sightlines led me to expect a different setup than I eventually spied when I moved off to the side of the stage. One guitar, one part-time drummer and a singer were kicking up a lot of racket. It wasn’t bad, but I prefer the albums I hunted down today than the live version.

Next up: Tonight brings Booker T, Tune-Yards and more. Check back all week for updates.

In addition to bringing as much great music to Iowa City in four days as we’d usually get in a month or two, the Mission Creek Festival also has expanded my horizons.

That expansion began Wednesday night with a concert by GZA/Genius, a member of Wu Tang Clan. I’ve long had a fascination with Wu Tang, more for their non-musical exploits, ideas and marketing, though I have Enter the 36 Chambers and a couple of solo albums from members. I didn’t, until recently, have GZA’s Liquid Swords, however. That has been rectified and I now have heard him perform it in concert.

GZA’s performance led off and headlined the fest. He filled the normally staid Englert Theatre with a crowd full of beer-swilling (and occasionally pot-smoking) fans who chanted along with every word. I was amazed that a guy pacing back and forth across a stage bare save for a platform with a DJ manning two turntables could hold an audience’s attention for 80 minutes, but he proved worthy to the task. Though I had listened to the album a handful of times, I didn’t recognize much. But the pulse and energy of the music easily hooked me.

The best moment: A young fan at the show with his dad was pulled on stage by GZA early on. He was maybe 8 or 9, and he stood tentatively at first, then got into it, acting as a cheerleader/mute hype man for the star. Transposing that to my world: The Replacements get back together and perform Let It Be in it’s entirety and my eldest gets pulled onstage by Paul Westerberg.

Thursday night was less of a stretch, but I nonetheless took in bands I might not have stayed up for had it been a non-festival show. First came Headlights, a band whose web site clips put me in the mind of the Cardigans, but which actually offered rocking, peppy pop full of carnivalesque keyboards and sharp vocals. That was followed by Fruit Bats, a band that on record sounds like the Posies’ Ken Stringfellow fronting the Shins (leader Eric Johnson has been a Shins sideman) but that sounded more like a countrified power pop band live. A nice cover of Bob Dylan’s “You Ain’t Goin’ Nowhere” (by way of the Byrds’ version) was a highlight.

Last came Beach House. I’ve heard both of the band’s albums, and while I admire their craft, I’m rarely in the mood for such a comedown. The live show was very different, an in-your-face wash of echo-laden guitar, trebley keyboards and soaring vocals. It was bracing and made me want to go back to those records in search of that same intensity.

Tonight, I’ll catch John Vanderslice and Mountain Goats, and will wrap up Saturday with No Age. Watch here Sunday for a full report.