Kevin Bronson on June 13th, 2016

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[Editor’s note: Below is our massive account from Saturday’s Make Music Pasadena — two photo galleries and rambling narrative. Did we mention massive? Hope you can spend some time with it. First photo gallery is by Carl Pocket. Lower photo gallery is by David Benjamin.]

Pasadena lore has it that, way back when, the city fathers cut some sort of deal with God so that it would never rain on that civic raison d’être, the Rose Parade. Over the years, The Big Guy mostly held up his end of the deal, although in 2006 the skies ended a 51-year drought by drenching attendees.

There was no downpour — except of musicians — for Saturday’s Make Music Pasadena, only leaden clouds that made the Rose City’s annual free festival drippier than a Weeknd chorus. It sprinkled, drizzled and misted all day, a stubborn spray that fouled photographers’ lenses, slickened the stages and thinned the crowds. Nobody who attended the past few Make Music Pasadena sweat-fests complained, though, especially anybody who baked in the afternoon sun at the Colorado Boulevard main stage.

The precipitation failed to dampen any spirits — the massive crowds that turned out to the main stage for Atlas Genius and the Mowgli’s engaged in some serious singin’ in the rain. Thee Commons damned near stole the whole festival at the Levitt Pavilion stage, and …

Well, how to bring you the orgiastic experience that was MMP, though? The majority of the about 150 performances happen within an eight-hour time span; if you follow a lot of bands (not that we know anybody like that), the set-time conflicts are agonizing. So needing a workout and choosing comfortable footwear, I decided to treat this year’s MMP like an Olympic sport: How many artists could I pack in to my Saturday?

Here’s my exercise in drive-by observation-alism [see the Buzz Bands LA Instagram feed for a chronology of images]:

12:02 p.m.: With a whoosh of electronics and some tasty guitar licks, young synth-rock trio Groves kick things off on the main stage. They play their new single “Swim,” they end with “Ender,” and in between they cover the Smashing Pumpkins’ “Tonight.”

1:05 p.m.: At the Paseo Colorado stage, Dutch Party’s Ken Franklin is wearing an orange ski cap as the quintet performs the nimbly bouncy “Paper Moon,” in which he sings that the rain’s falling down and it’s turning to snow. No danger of that in Pasadena, but he was prepared.

1:20 p.m.: L.A. Girlfriend perform the title track of their 2014 EP “Varsity” on the main stage with singer Sydney Banta flanked by two pom-pom dancers. What will they think of next?

1:40 p.m.: Two and a half blocks and two turns down an alley away, indie-rock quartet DreamVacation are playing in a nagging mist on a small, uncovered stage in a courtyard behind the bar Der Wolfskopf. They are very moody and very good, especially their new song “Letting in the Dead.” They are also soaked. “We’re blasting the nips up here because it’s wet,” bassist Gerry Matthews jokes, tugging at his T-shirt. “Hope you’re OK with guys blasting nips.”

2:05 p.m.: Only steps away, Long Beach dream-pop trio Pageants are sounding wonderfully cherubic in the dark little cubbyhole that is the Old Towne Pub, the same spot they played MMP last year. Someday Pageants are going to release the album they have finished and you’ll like it. [Footnote: This pub is the first place I had a drink in California upon moving to Pasadena from New York almost 30 years ago, and I have local Pasadena legends Snotty Scotty & the Hankies, whom I met in a park playing softball my first day in town, to thank for it.]

2:18 p.m.: Pr0files have a lot of backing tracks raining down on everybody at the main stage. After a moment’s hesitation and a snippet of “Call Yourself a Lover,” I head toward STATS for all my floral and folk music needs.

2:26 p.m.: Make Music Pasadena’s portal to the folk/roots/Americana world, STATS’s stage is indoors amid the floral design retailer’s shelves and shelves and shelves of, well, floral design stuff.  With tables and chairs, it’s unfailingly 1) a good place to take a load off, and 2) a good place meet people like Dear Lemon Trees. The new country/bluegrass trio melds the talents of Kathleen Grace, Jamie Drake and Leslie Stevens, who got together because they were asked to sing at a wedding and, even though they didn’t think their voices went together very well, they did. It turns out their voices go together very well. The Stevens-penned “When the Moon Fell in Love With the Sun” was heavenly and, later, everybody who never lived in the Carolinas got an education on what-the-heck-is-a cakalacky.

2:38 p.m.: On a brisk, slightly uphill walk, I follow a young couple who perhaps haven’t known each other for very long. “So,” says he, “would you call this a mist or a drizzle?”

2:43 p.m.: Deep breath at the Paseo Colorado stage, where the Fontaines are playing their final song.  They sound bigger and better and less retro, and they have a new EP coming out, so more on that soon.

2:55 p.m.: The Playhouse District Stage, which is eight-tenths of a mile from the main stage but, based on past experience, will feel farther as the afternoon progresses is where everybody is singing “a-e-i-o-u” along with HUNNY’s single “Vowels.” Singer-guitarist Jason Yarger makes nice with fans wanting selfies after the set with his beagle in tow. Love that.

3:12 p.m.: A half-block away, a cup of Zona Rosa Coffee.

[Narrative continued after this photo gallery:]

PAPA at Make Music Pasadena (Photo by David Benjamin)

3:25 p.m.: PAPA’s organ-drenched indie-punk-soul blares from the Playhouse District Stage, echoing like thunder off the concrete and asphalt enclave Backup singers and all, singer-drummer Darren Weiss and gang start with “If You’re My Girl, Then I’m Your Man” and then play their latest single “Hold On.” I just want Weiss’ black denim overalls. And maybe a bite to eat.

3:35 p.m.: “We’re Givers & Takers, this is our first time here at Bonaroo …” says Zack Greenwald at the Paseo Colorado stage, conveniently located right outside the Pasadena Antique Mall, noting that it was the band’s second “shopping center situation in Pasadena recently.” The quartet makes the drizzle stop, temporarily, with a jammy psychedelic soul excursion. My new side project will be called Shopping Center Situation.

3:45 p.m.: Even breaking into (an ill-advised) trot downhill to the main stage, I catch only the final notes of the Dead Ships’ set. It should be noted that if there’s a Southern California festival, the Dead Ships have played it (including, this year, Coachella). It should also be noted that their new album “Citycide” comes out next week.

4:00 p.m.: Last year, Valley Queen were thrown a curveball — only hours before they were scheduled to play MMP, drummer Gerry Doot’s wife went into labor their their first child. This year, 1-year-old Dorothy was sidestage as the quartet rocked their tight new songs at the STATS stage.

4:25 p.m.: I would have bet that if any band could make the clouds part, it would be the preternaturally upbeat indie-poppers the Mowgli’s, who were greeted by a huge, roaring main stage crowd and did their level best, singing about “laughing ’til the sun comes up.”

4:40 p.m.: Dark pop trio Smoke Season were playing in the Armory Center for the Arts, where it was not dark enough. Until you closed your eyes during “Badlands” and heard Gabrielle Wortman’s incantation, “There’s only bones on the dusty road.” “Emilia” from their new EP was a highlight as well, while only steps away …

4:50 p.m.: … Young post-punk quartet Diamonds were making a ruckus in one of the Armory’s gallery spaces. A good ruckus, too, and too big for the room.

5:10 p.m.: Playing on the rain-slickened Levitt Pavilion Stage, Thee Commons gave a clinic on what they call “psychedelic cumba punk” — and what a clinic it was. The quartet jumped, gyrated, grooved, growled and gesticulated and they sang in a language we gringos do not understand, but it did not matter. Saxophonist Jesus Salas jumped off stage and cavorted through the crowd playing away. Then, as if possessed, he went down in the wet grass and continued to play. “Jesus, now you’ve ruined your shirt,” frontman David Pacheco said. “Your mom’s gonna yell at you.” Later, with three of the foursome donning masks, they all went to the crowd. Now that was the way to make music, Pasadena.

5:55 p.m.: Atlas Genius’ gigantipop roars from the main stage, the L.A.-based Australians proving worth every soggy article of clothing to their happy fans. Sing-along is the new music.

6:20 p.m.: Back up at the Levitt Pavilion stage, things have calmed down considerably. Clara-Nova, aka Sydney Wayser, is singing about how “this side of paradise ain’t what it seems,” which for weather wimps was true on this day. It is at this point that I realize I did not make it back up to the Playhouse District Stage for Bear Hands or Small Black. I am disappointed but my legs and feet aren’t.

6:35: Inside at STATS, The Americans are doing American rock ’n’ roll all American-like. Every song is like a Dagwood on Wonder Bread, hearty and beefy and familiar. It is not a coincidence at all that during their set I start thinking about sandwiches.

7:00 p.m.: Food can wait. James Supercave is starting on the main stage, with Joaquin Pastor in a black hooded coat and hot pink sneakers. He immediately and dramatically collapses onstage, laying motionless in front of the drum kit, then bounces up as the band busts into the title track from their album “Better Strange.” The crowd is not as big as for the Mowgli’s and Atlas Genius, but the dancing is weirder, much weirder, so James Supercave are having the desired effect.

7:15 p.m.: For me, everything is happening at once. At STATS, beloved folk-rockers Tall Tales & the Silver Lining are playing their final show, having announced they are breaking up. Trevor Beld Jimenez tells a story about a friend who sent him a guitar in the mail and then moved to Sri Lanka. “So thanks to him and Sri Lanka,” he says. There are many longtime fans with long faces. They play “Something to Believe In” and there are no more long faces.

7:30 p.m.: Across the street at Copa Vida, Keith Slettedahl of long-running L.A. pop-rockers The 88 is doing a solo acoustic set. He has played largely new material but by time I poke my head in the door the sharp-dressed man is finishing with a couple of songs from The 88, including 2005’s “Coming Home.” Everybody joins in the “la-la-la-la-la-la-la’s” on the outro and all seems right in the world.

7:45 p.m.: James Supercave is finishing with “The Right Thing” and it’s huge, swooping, straight-outta-Bowie synth. Good.

8:05 p.m.: And back in the courtyard outside Der Wolfskopf and Old Towne Pub, Bloodboy — aka Lexie Papilion — is ushering in the night. It’s a little too moody for the courtyard’s beer-garden atmosphere, but I got to hear the single “Human Female” while watching everybody eat mountains of bar food.

Which reminds me …