TEAM ROBESPIERRE A throwback to old-school punk.

While most Americans were sitting in lawn chairs, surrounded by beer and barbeque, watching the local parade, some were slam dancing and dodging flying water bottles. Those who gathered for the F Yeah Fest were the most eclectic and socially awkward group this holiday weekend, and the leader of the group was Totally Michael, the guy who opened the show. As he danced through the crowd shaking his hips and knocking butts with high school girls, he looked like a mix of Hellogoodbye and Gwen Stefani's Harajuku girls. Bad dancing aside, his set of repetitive but addicting fast-paced pop songs got everyone to dance like the awkward white kids they were.

Part of F Yeah Fest's appeal is its mix of music, art and comedy. Before the three remaining bands, Chicago comedian Hannibal Buress kept the crowd laughing with his jokes about 24-hour pawn shops, racist porn and Guitar Hero. Although it was his first time doing comedy on a music tour, he said he liked mosh pits because "I can punch like the white kids and get away with it." The crowd stopped laughing when comic Nick Flanagan came on. He opened up with a crack on Cleveland and should have known things could only get worse from there. The rest of his set was embarrassing to watch, and Flanagan finally realized no one was enjoying his penis jokes except him.

Crystal Antlers then took the stage and proceeded to ignore the audience. Not until the set was finished did the band acknowledge the crowd with a brief, grunted "Thank you." The band's heavy songs were dotted with occasional screams and moans. While the lyrics weren't there, the musicianship was impressive and innovative, but the band seemed to spend half its time playing the final song. Brooklyn's Team Robespierre was a throwback to old-school punk, complete with fist-pumping anthems, but featured less anarchy and more dancing. It was difficult to tell the band members from the audience as they all came together for a dance party/mosh pit in the middle of the floor. Team Robespierre got the audience revved up just in time for Monotonix. Seconds into the Israeli band's first song, the lead singer drenched a few people with bottled water causing everyone to step back. Between picking up the bass drum, humping the Simpsons pinball machine and invading the audience's comfort zone, Monotonix was more about theatrics than music, which isn't a bad thing on a tour dubbed "F Yeah."

Rythym Fest
Nelson Ledges, Thursday, July 3-Sunday, July 6

When you've got a campsite as filled with freedom and equality as you do at Evan Kelly's Nelson Ledges Quarry Park in Amish-gawking Garrettsville, you have to believe it when Evan introduces "one of the best pyrotechnics shows in the COUNTRY!" The man means it, and backs it up with crowd-startling flybys, a guy trying to set the record for how long he can stay ablaze, the endless volleys of lights and the legions of freaks, love bunnies and true believers. Now jiggle all that together with a more than generous line-up of musical genius from across genres - with two Rock Hallers as anchors on two separate nights - and what we had here, folks, was a full-on weekend of cosmic bliss for every one of your war-ravaged senses.

I couldn't make night one, featuring the meticulous jammers Moe., but I'm sure they sparked a good buzz what with all their merch I saw everywhere when I arrived Friday "morning" and eased on into the calming fracas. After a slew of promising acts - most notably legend Airto Moreira, his wife Flora and Identity, and on the side-stage the Ragbirds, rootsy folk-poppers with a pixie who alternates between stirring fiddle licks and high-end singing - it was time for the fireworks and Mickey Hart, for three decades the heartbeat of the Grateful Dead. He brought his psych-rock percussion-heavy experience to the stage with five drum experts, including master Giovanni Hidalgo, who opened by stripping the skin from his very palms. With a solid mix of Dead classics sprinkled in, a Linda Ronstadt manque but prettier, and bassist George Porter Jr. who sounds like he sings lead for the Holmes Brothers, the smiles of marvel were never-ending. It was Americana at its finest, an honor to witness.

On Saturday, the same reverence was due, but this time dancing was not an option. Another jam-packed day, with Dave Katz, Ekoostik Hookah's keyboardist/architect, and his Jammers weaving such a blissful tapestry that all I could think was: Will somebody give this guy a singer? Seamless tunes abounded all afternoon, leading the way into George Clinton and Parliament-Funkadelic. If you've never seen this carnival sideshow of impeccable soul before, you might want to slap yourself in the head right now. If I'd have brought my notebook, I might have made note of some of the particular songs that played. Instead, let me say that it was like one long song that encompassed everything from Motown and scat to hill country and rap, coupled with sex-fueled theatrics that locked the eyes into the whole experience. He even had his twenty-something granddaughter along with his posse of 20-plus, with a throwback-sounding rap so dirty it could have only come from one place. Clinton can't sing anymore, but just about everybody in his entourage can, so everything works out best when he just sits back and plays captain, tokes on some bud and rides the mothership to one helluva beautiful place. In the morning, a yoga clinic on the beach was said to raise many of the dead. My legs were still jelly from all the dancing. — Dan Harkins

Peter Tork and the Shoe Suede Blues
Winchester, Saturday, July 5

Monkee Peter Tork returned to the Winchester with Shoe Suede Blues, a blues-pop group that's been his main project since the mid-1990s. Tork's roughly 90-minute set followed a well-paced pattern of a Monkees cover approximately every fourth song, with either original or covered blues/R&B tunes in between. Tork focused on the biggest Monkee hits, like "I'm a Believer" and "Last Train To Clarksville," and those songs' new, soulful, bluesy renditions proved way more interesting than straightforward reenactments of the original recordings. By retooling those songs so distinctively, Tork took ownership of them in a cool, dignified way. "Your Auntie Grizelda" excepted, the Monkees hits that Tork performed weren't really songs that he originally composed or sang lead on, so Tork-composed, non-hit greats like "Can You Dig It" were unfortunately left out. The audience was predictably a crowd of Monkee-lovers, so although Tork kept the supportive audience engaged throughout, the Monkees covers were the obvious crowd-pleasers.

The blues/R&B covers consisted of material like Slim Harpo's "Mailbox Blues" and Stick McGhee's "Drinking Wine Spodie Odie." Because Tork is naturally such a clown, the most serious and straightforwardly bluesy numbers sometimes felt like they didn't quite add up, despite the solid musicianship and deep love of the material by Tork and his backing band. The most effective cover tune was Louis Jordan's swing/jump-blues standard "The Chicks I Pick Are Slender and Tender and Tall." The fun, whimsical spirit of swing aligned perfectly with Tork's personality and innate strengths as a goofy entertainer, suggesting a stylistic direction that Tork would be wise to further explore and emphasize more strongly in the future.

Opener Michael Jantz's acoustic-guitar singer-songwriter set had a laid-back, slightly silly undercurrent that paired compatibly with Tork's own vibe. — Michael David Toth

Type O Negative
House of Blues, Thursday, July 3

Type O Negative's singer Peter Steele, keyboardist Josh Silver, guitarist Kenny Hickey and drummer Johnny Kelly have successfully coped with their own unique place in music history. Easily one of the more consistent bands both in studio and on stage, Type O never disappoint and on Thursday at the House of Blues it was no different. The stage was set with the customary green accents and props that Type O has made signature. Frontman Peter Steele's corner of stage right had a neatly placed bottle of Jagermeister, rather than the usual red wine. Three green, unclothed mannequins were randomly perched by monitors with black hairpieces both "up there" and "down there." The ravenous mob ardently chanted the Type O anthem "You Suck! You Suck!" as the Brooklyn natives casually stormed the stage.

A dramatic yet shortened "Prelude to Agony" erupted from their instruments, setting the atmosphere for the evening. The uptempo "Kill All the White People" came next, enlisting the pitgoers to engage in the moment. A spectacularly rare "Wolf Moon" kept the nostalgia growing while Steele's brawny stature and moments of muddled lyrics hinted at reported turmoil of recent past. Devotion to his craft made up for any shortcomings while his unparalleled vocal skill rang true and even enhanced the original versions of each song. The traditional banter of the other members combined with Kelly's hair flips and grins flaunted Type O Negative's prowess. Both new and old fans embraced perfect renditions of "World Coming Down," "Some Stupid Tomorrow" and the sing-along "Christian Woman." Back to back "Kill You Tonight" and "Love You to Death" encouraged couples to both slap and hug their loved ones, while the popular "Black No.1" hugged the whole crowd. Begrudgingly (they have a rep to protect) the band embraced Cleveland's electrifying enthusiasm, which proved too contagious to deny. — Hannah Verbeuren