Death Cab for Cutie just closed out the labor-day weekend at Bumbershoot with an extensive set that was as long as it was memorable. The four-piece Bellingham band (they'll always be a solo-project of some kid from B-ham to me) played a marathon set that stretched into the late evening and featured an astonishing 22 songs.

Singer/guitarist Ben Gibbard jumped and jerked his way around the right half of the Memorial Stadium stage with an astonishing dexterity in both his guitar playing and vocal prowess. Beside him bassists Nick Harmer pounded his bass while drummer Jason McGerr kept a much harder and driving beat than I'd assumed this band was capable of. Rounding out the lineup is multi-instrumentalist Chris Walla, who is as accomplished on guitar as he is on the Rhodes piano. Walla added texture to the already atmospheric sound the band employs.

Towards the end of their hour-and-a-half set Gibbard spoke to the crowd: "Hi, we're Death Cab For Cutie and We're from right down the block. We'll see you in the neighborhood eating pizza and shopping for groceries."

It was endearing and true. Individually the members of Death Cab for Cutie are as unassuming as the sound of rain. They could easily blend in to the crowds on any college campus and if you didn't know any better you might mistake them for a video-store clerk or a neighborhood barista. Their music is similar to their style in that it is introspective and mellow, but capable of being dark and melodic all at once.

Gibbard took the time to repeatedly thank opening band Superchunk -- for good reason. Superchunk were a college-radio favorite and a massively popular indie-rock band during the mid to late 90s. They helped pave the way for bands like Death Cab For Cutie and Gibbard acknowledged it by thanking them profusely.

Some highlights from the set were "I Will Posses Your Heart," "The New Year" and "I Will Follow You into the Dark," in which Gibbard performed solo with just an acoustic guitar.

Keeping track of Bumbershoot’s Monday literary doings didn’t quite go as planned. First I took too long to figuring out how to work a laptop while I did my first two blog entries, so I missed Edmund White and Samantha Hunt discussing historical fiction. Not only that, but I completely mislocated the friend I’d come with.

At a loss, I dropped in on William Gibson, Eileen Gunn and John Osebold and friends, who were giving a concert/reading. Osebold (of local band “Awesome”) played a suite of Gibson-inspired songs, with help from two fellow “Awesome”-ers. One spooky little piece with an accordion/percussion/theremin lineup was especially beguiling. Local writer Gunn then hit a sweet spot (although she was sure it would ruin her reputation) with a fantasy variation on Mr. Spock and Captain Kirk fleeing the Starship Enterprise, styrofoam weapons in hand, so they could have babies together. By comparison, Gibson - I know this is sacrilege - came across as dull and opaque … but maybe I was worried too much about my missing friend? Would Bumbershoot eat him?

I wound up wandering the grounds again, and happened upon some oddly dressed, polymorphous perverse Australians bobbing around in mid-air (a cheeky, entertaining troupe called Strange Fruit, out of Melbourne, who performed on 10-feet-high flexible poles). After that, I tried blogging again, but the Blog Machine, which I hardly knew how to use anyway, was otherwise occupied.

So I dropped in late on another literary panel I’d hoped to catch, and I saw Alaskan governor/Republic VP nominee Sarah Palin onstage. What was she doing here?

It took me a moment to realize the woman was actually one of my favorite writers, Joan Silber. But the resemblance was uncanny. She was there to read and talk with author Nathan McCall. Here, finally, I got my Edmund White fix: he was in the audience, challenging Silber and McCall on their claims that they don’t write with any readers in mind.

McCall’s response: “If you’d read my first book, ‘Makes Me Wanna Holler,’ you’d know that I really don’t care about readers.” But he said it with a smile.

Later McCall quoted Picasso: “Art is a lie which helps us see the truth.” I’m not sure blogging does the same.

Oh - and I did find my friend, waiting for me in the line for Pacific Northwest Ballet.

The most packed house I was in all day was Bagley Wright Theatre for Pacific Northwest Ballet. True, it’s not Memorial Stadium - but it’s still a sign that there’s something vital going on at Bumbershoot besides all the rock music.

PNB offered a three-part program. First up was Twyla Tharp’s classic “Nine Sinatra Songs,” which starts on a suave note (Karel Cruz and Kari Brunson looked every inch the elegant nightclub couple in “Softly As I Leave You”), but soon winds into more unbridled, not to mention silly territory. Highlights included the pratfalls of Carrie Imler and Jonathan Porretta in “Somethin’ Stupid” (he kept getting stuck in her decollete), Carla Korbes and Jeffrey Stanton offering a swell-egant turn in “All the Way,” and Kaori Nakamura and Olivier Wevers in a mood of road-worn abandon in “That’s Life.”

PNB dancers choreographed the other 2 items on the program, which both premiered at PNB’s Choreographers’ Showcase this past April. Porretta, best known for his comic turns with PNB (see above - or his celebrated role as Puck in “A Midsummer Night’s Dream”) confounded expectations with his quiet, wistful duet, “Lacrymosa,” which showed off Cruz and Chalnessa Eames to good effect, but was over almost before it had started.

Kiyon Gaines’ “Interrupted Pri’si’zh’en,” for five male dancers, was a different story. It was a slicing, dicing, hyperkinetic, endurance-test knockout. There was a “Carmina Burana”-like drive to some of the (recorded) Fuzzbox String Quartet score…and to much of the movement as well. I’m not quite sure what’s involved in officially bringing a piece into PNB’s repertory (Gaines’ earlier “[SCHWA]” had that honor last year), but PNB director Peter Boal might want to consider bringing this baby into the fold ASAP.

Cheb i Sabbah & 1002 Nights are what Bumbershoot is all about. The world-beat DJ and his troupe of musicians, singer and dancer were challenging, fun and entertaining. Their sundown set at Fisher Green was about community, with people of all ages unified by the propulsive, body-slamming rhythms that had everybody moving and shaking. It was about world community, too, with irresistible party music from Arabic, Asian and African countries that demonstrated that we are all unified by music and dancing. "We haven't played any Arab terrorist music yet," Sabbah said mischeviously in the middle of the set, then blew the place up with the poundingest bass sounds of the whole show. Vocalist Riffat Sultana, in brightly-colorful dress, was exotic to Western ears -- high-pitched, joyful, sultry -- and wonderful. The young female dancer, with silver and gold accents on her clothing and makeup, was playful and charming, with fascinating moves of hand, head and body. The wildly appreciative demanded, and got, an encore.

I'd written this recap of today at Bumbershoot for tomorrow's printed paper, but my editor Mr. Tazioli and I decided to use photos instead. So as not to waste effort, here's what I thought of today, in a blog entry as I wrote it three hours ago:

If I can introduce you to anything off your radar, it has to be Cheb i Sabbah, which I was delighted to see on the Bumbershoot lineup.

The San Franciscan DJ fuses world sounds, hip-hop and electronica beats. I used to listen to him back in the Bay to warm up to write. He's a resident DJ at at several San Francisco clubs - so if you visit, you have to check out a night.

On top of that, he's a great guy to talk to. I've interviewed him in the past and he's got an intriguing musical mind to pick with many influences.

Right now, he's got turntables, different kinds of drums and a belly dancer on stage - how can you beat that kind of fusion?

Here's his site, check him out - www.myspace.com/chebisabbahji

Here's what catches a 6-year-old's eye at Bumbershoot: A woman on a big bouncy ball tossing three juggling pins; four performers on big wobbly sticks, dancing and clowning (Australia's Strange Fruit); a little black pug in a baby stroller; skateboarding stuntmakers flying on a half-pipe; science activities in the Center House; a guy in an unidentifiable brown and green costume ("from a scary dog show," according to one small informant) waving "hello"; a concrete ball in front of KeyArena, just right for climbing; and one piece of pepperoni pizza. All without standing in a single line.

Dan Deacon, the one-man band and absurd electronic composer from Baltimore, told the crowd that when he agreed to play Bumbershoot he assumed it would be outside so he left his lights at home. When faced with playing in the cavern-like enclave that is the Exhibition Hall Deacon made the most of it.

"Let's pretend this outside," Deacon said adding that the bright lights above would have to replicate a spotted and florescent sun.

Under the glare of the overhead lights Deacon looked homeless. He's incredibly out of shape, balding and his clothes are stained and dirty from constant touring. His glitched out electronic dance music is flushed out by vocoder effects that make his voice sound like a high-pitched robot drunk on nitrous.

The crowd, mostly younger and sporting a rainbow's mix of day-glo colors, reacted with euphoric enthusiasm. Like Monotonix before him, Deacon set up on the floor. After a lenghty and long-winded monologue Deacon commanded the crowd to lose all inhibition. Hands were held and kisses exchanged all before he played one note.

During the show he had the crowd form a giant circle, splitting the crowd into two teams for a giant dance-off competition.

Here are the rules:
1. Sassy as f*** all the time.
2. When you're done dancing you get to pick the next competitor.
3. No cowards.

Luckily the audience ate it all up and no one chickened out.