We spend most of our summer weekends at music festivals. Pitchfork stands on a shadeless baseball diamond turned into dust bowl. The fields of Lollapalooza are trampled into a mush of wood chips, mud and goose poop. So it's sweet relief to pop off our shoes and sink into the sand at Montrose Beach for Wavefront, the most mature of the electronic fests. Concerts. On a beach. Brilliant. We even hopped in to catch Huey Lewis go "Back in Time." If we ran music, Pitchfork would be here, too.
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