I went out to Olympia for the Yo Yo a Go Go festival last week, getting there two days early to do some recording, and there was a feeling of apprehension in the air. Olympia had been the exception to the “indie rock doesn’t sell” rule; when, like sheep, the general indie public wandered en masse from the Superchunk/Pavement pen to the Tortoise/Stereolab corral, Olympia exercised its God-given right to form its own opinion instead of being dictated to by trends and market forces. By 1999 it was surprising to hear that there was going to be an indie rock festival anywhere, but there was Yo Yo, attracting an impressive number of people from around the world and standing its aesthetic ground happily and proudly. It was cool.