Matthew Keever: By noon, only an hour after gates opened, I had already been sunburned. I've learned that no amount of sunscreen (or lack of clothing) can save you from the Houston sun and heat. But nonetheless, I had a great time.

From the Manichean, Finnegan and Roky Moon & BOLT!, a few of my favorite local acts, to Bun B, Big Boi and Fucked Up, the third annual Free Press Summer Fest had something for everyone.

And for lovers of festivals and a wide array of music alike, it was heaven.

By far, Toronto's Fucked Up were my favorite performers of the entire weekend. I had read a review of their new album, David Comes to Life, which is available as of today, coincidentally, and such high praise coming from one of my favorite music writers seemed reason enough to give them a listen. As is often the case, they went on my list of bands to listen to, but I have yet to get around to buying a copy of their album.

By the time you read this, I will have already bought a copy. Maybe two, even.

Lead vocalist Damian Abraham is, as far as looks and onstage personality are concerned, is the heart of the band. The oversized, over-bearded, ballcap-wearing Canadian jumped into the crowd moments after Fucked Up got onstage.

He ran around the crowd for more than an hour, wrapping the microphone cable around himself, smashing the mike on his head, rambunctiously jumping around inside the crowd as fans climbed onto his back and giving big hugs to even the most timid members of the crowd.

Everyone warmed up to his baritone screams, eventually. Even those who were apprehensive as the show began. Look them up if you haven't already.

Earlier, The Manichean put on as entertaining of a show as I have ever seen from the native Houstonians.

The lyrics vocalist Cory Sinclair sings are both beautiful and disturbing. In almost every song, you'll find snippets of short and sweet nothings, the kind your girlfriend would put as her Facebook status as a way of telling her love for you - "She walks in just like she always does, and this pulse flickers just like it always does."

Awww... cute, right? But the song continues on and takes a dark turn. But hey, that's just Sinclair and co-founder Justice Tirapelli-Jamail's style.

Brittanie Shey: For a festival in its infancy that seems to be growing exponentially by the year, Summerfest came off with a few flaws. Despite the obvious - why have an outdoor music festival during the hottest part of the year in Houston? - there were some no-brainer flubs this year too.

Free water is a wonderful idea, but why block off the city-funded water fountains that already dot Eleanor Tinsley Park? Lines for the water stations were so long that people were caving for the $2 bottles instead.

And why no hand sanitizer outside the portable toilets? No place to wash ones' hands? That's just plain gross.

But if that's all we have to bitch about, them you know the event was a successful one. Among Saturday's highlights were watching Junior Brown and wife Tanya Rae covering surf-guitar classics from the shade of a tree, and seeing Sharon Jones own the crowd like some perfect amalgamation of Tina Turner and James Brown. Both performers have played Houston (and Austin) before, but I've just never been able to catch them until Saturday.

Before introducing Sharon Jones, the Dap-Kings played several bars of hometown favorite "Tighten Up" by Archie Bell & the Drells. Rocks Off was disappointed we didn't get to hear the whole thing, but Ms. Jones made up for it later by running through a medley of fad dances from the Boogaloo to the Wobble, the fringe on her dress flying madly. Everyone on and in front of the stage was sweating, and it wasn't from the heat.

(Speaking of Sharon Jones, I was happy to hear so many female voices coming from the stages at FPSF, especially the smaller ones.)

As the night wore on and the heat wore off, the crowd moved towards the main stage for Ween. At least temporarily. A few songs in, people began fleeing en masse. I heard one guy opine "They call this music?" Poor souls. They missed an eclectic set from one of the most eclectic bands in rock, who played everything from "Bananas and Blow" to the nautical-themed "Mollusk" to a dead-on perfect cover of David Bowie's "Let's Dance."

"We don't get to texas much," Dean Ween said, making it even more tragic that so many people skipped out on the show. Saturday night was lo-fi at its highest quality.