Pimlico Special

If you took your eyes off the stage, you'd swear you were listening to a nonexistent bootleg of a 1969 Beatles show. And if you opened your eyes? You'd see heshers, kids, parents, teenagers, yuppies and everyone in between smiling and singing along to "A Hard Day's Night."

A best-performance contender? Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings. Jones is a soul-singing dynamo, with a voice of a long-lost Stax artist and the sort of stage presence that would have made the Godfather of Soul proud. "When I get the mike in my hand, I lose my mind sometimes!" she said on Saturday before letting loose with some ants-in-my-pants moves that brought a roar from the crowd. Why isn't this woman a major star?

The most original act on the bill was probably a Mexican duo that shredded through a stunning set of something that might best be described as heavy-metal flamenco, with Rodrigo Sanchez and Gabriela Quintero trading leads, their fingers fluttering at incomprehensible speeds. Their playing was at once highly technical and deeply soulful, a potent combination that earned devil-horn salutes from a guy with a Metallica tattoo on his arm.

Not everybody was so distinctive, of course; artistic echoes were in abundance throughout the festival.

Bloc Party came off like a lighter-weight Gang of Four, with its spiky, dissonant guitars, dance-rock beats and occasionally political lyrics. Black Rebel Motorcycle Club's dirty, druggy music -- all woozy, effects-laden guitars, sludgy bass lines and droning vocal harmonies -- recalled T. Rex, the Jesus and Mary Chain and "Their Satanic Majesties Request"-era Rolling Stones. STP's "Sex Type Thing" was a Nirvana-type thing.

The young Welsh singer Duffy was also derivative, in perhaps the worst way: She's a technically sound singer with a torchy, powerhouse voice that seemed to hit all the right notes in a set of retro soul-pop that fell somewhere between Shirley Bassey and Dusty Springfield. But she sounded studied, coming across as an unconvincing, emotionally empty Winehouse-come-lately who views the whole retro-music thing as a good career move, not a lifelong passion. (One exception: "Mercy," a frisky organ-fueled romp that she sold particularly well.)

Much more convincing was Cat Power's Chan Marshall, who performed sad, sorrowful indie-torch ballads and rockers that were mostly down-tempo and downcast. Her originals and covers (including Joni Mitchell's "Blue," which might well be Marshall's theme song) were gorgeously gloomy, driven by dark, dreamy music and, of course, Marshall's melancholy voice -- a parched, ethereal instrument that sounded both haunting and haunted.

Lil Wayne's performance was thematically focused, even if he himself wasn't, as he rapped almost exclusively about cash, girls and his own hotness, with multiple "get money" refrains. His performance was perfunctory and listless at the start. The 25-year-old rap star eventually snapped out of his funk, however. By the time he tore off his shirt for an explosive performance of "A Milli," he'd transformed himself into a commanding presence. And then, the capper: "Lollipop," his chart-topping sex jam during which West made a surprise cameo.

The Belgian electronica outfit Soulwax sent a surge through the dance-tent crowd with a detonative drum-and-bass pattern and a looped vocal sample: "The party on the weekend/never dies," an exotic, robotic female voice said repeatedly. And the group did, in fact, dress for a party, wearing matching white tuxedos.

Iggy Pop came out shirtless and then acted like an insane person for an hour, contorting his body, leaping onto amplifiers, howling like a madman. Not bad for a 61-year-old. The Stooges' set was heavy on songs from their 1969 self-titled debut, and "Fun House," "T.V. Eye" and "Loose" all sounded plenty powerful nearly 40 years after their release. Ron Asheton didn't move any muscles except those in his hands, which meant he still played his crushing power chords and blazing solos. Mike Watt looked like a man possessed on bass -- although it was nothing compared with Iggy.

Some artists had a tough sell -- not least Shudder to Think, the newly reunited D.C. band. As in the old days, the band seemed to befuddle much of the audience, especially the teenagers who were staking out prime spots for the Paramore/Taking Back back-to-back.

The Swell Season struggled to be heard over the festival din, but they were up for the challenge, with Glen Hansard even ending the set with the most daring encore in the festival's short history: The former busker leaped off the stage and into the crowd for a truly unplugged performance when his microphone wouldn't work.