Everybody does favors for their friends, right? But we all know that doing favors usually means getting the short end of the stick—like watering a neighbor’s plants while he’s on vacation or lending a buddy $50. Sometimes, we’re asked to do something that could hardly be considered a chore: Last week, I had a friend ask me to accept a free ticket and go with her to a local alternative-radio station’s annual summer concert, the Y-100 Feztival. (Basically, an event where bands kiss the station’s ass in exchange for past and future airplay.) Melodically proficient up-and-comers such as Pete Yorn and Phantom Planet were breaths of fresh air; others, such as cutesy SoCal-style punk Unwritten Law and frat rockers Familiar 48, had the same old tired sounds that already saturate the airwaves—why bother to see ‘em live?

Highlight of the main stage: Yorn, who included covers of the Smiths’ “Panic” and Bowie’s “China Girl” in a set of songs otherwise culled from his debut, last year’s Musicforthemorningafter. His laid-back and calm-yet-tight show made him stand out as probably the most developed and advanced songwriter among the festival’s youthful up-and-coming bands. While most of the twentysomethings who were still sober enough to have their shirts on viewed this as the highlight, the guy standing next to me found one of the bouncing beach balls to be much more invigorating and rewarding.

Elsewhere on the main stage, System Of A Down revealed itself as one of the few (and perhaps only) modern metal bands that understands how to maintain an air of eeriness and musical complexity without compromising the act with wearing masks and shooting flames out their asses. Serj Tankian’s singing and scat-based gibbering was quick and precise; Daron Malakian’s guitar work and solos were equally impressive. Most likely in reference to the current Kashmiri conflict and the possible use of nuclear weapons there, System took the opportunity to do some politicizing from the lip of the stage, beginning a chant of Lennon’s famous “All we are saying is give peace a chance” and finishing it up with its own version: “All we are saying is don’t blow the fucking world up!” In all, the set was forceful, with scattered bits of intellectualism.

On the side stage, Northern Ireland’s Ash and Los Angeles’ Phantom “you know, the band with that guy from Rushmore” Planet kept the rock alive. Phantom Planet was a beacon of ‘70s arena-rock hope: Singer/guitarist Alex Greenwald’s vocals evoked a mixture of David Bowie and T.Rex, underwear was thrown on stage and the drum solo made a comeback in a big way. The crowd got so fired up that it even stayed mobile through the Dashboard Confessional set—an unlikely amount of pushing, shoving and crowd-surfing ensued for the sensitive emo act. Earlier in the day, Ash chugged through a career-spanning performance of its pogo-hopping, punky Britrock, including the more uppity songs from last year’s Free All Angels. Although Tim Wheeler sang out of tune and accidentally disconnected his guitar a couple times, a bad day for one man didn’t keep the rest of the band from maintaining its poise. The other drawback: I had to leave early because my friend wanted to catch some of Unwritten Law. Remember what I said about favors?

—Andy Steinitz