Wolfe Island, pretties, was nothing short of sensational. The Constantines played the finest show we’ve ever seen, closing their set with a beautiful segue into the Modern Lovers’ Roadrunner. The Hidden Cameras played a wonderful and enthusiastically poppy set, while in front of us parents danced away with their children. (And again, unmiced, for free, the next day at the Sleepless Goat.)

CleverLazy can’t quibble with the price. Listing the performing bands, she concludes: “All that for $25? It’s ridiculous. It’s practically communism.”

Our friend Sofi has the photographic roundup, and a description (of questionable veracity) of the show’s staggering conclusion: “This was the part of the show where Bry Webb announced our impending nuptuals over the mic. People cheered. We kissed. I cried.”

PSPD, like us, didn’t dress for the weather: “… couple things i’d like to remember for next year… bring mitts and an extra blanket for when it gets cold at night.” Us, we wore shorts, and froze our limbs right off. It was horrible. We saw a young woman wearing a toque — a toque, fer chrissakes, in the middle of August — and we were jealous of her meteorological foresight.

Photo: Wintersleep, rocking out.

Edit: More, more, more! Suckingalemon’s gorgeous photos, Chumptastic’s totally-spot-on anti-Chris Brown rant, 30 seconds of Hidden Cameras video from Good God Gary, and Bootlog’s hootenanny review.