Fall’s first splash of seasonal sprinkles didn’t hinder the energy at LA Weekly’s third annual Detour Festival held in downtown Los Angeles on Saturday. Though the predicted rain produced a gloomy hue of blue-gray that matched the dull government structures, this was a day (and night) to remember.

With an eclectic line-up that included Gypsy Punk headliners, Gogol Bordello, post-electro from the Presets and Cut Copy, the down home beats of Peanut Butter Wolfe, and the dissonant noise of Black Lips, there was something for everyone.

Before making my way to one out of the four stages, I perused around the rows of white tents, noticing groups of friends, young and old, caring less about bundling up for the rain and more about representing a social or political thought on their t-shirts. From less subtle slogans to more controversial, it was instantaneously obvious that these crowdgoeers were not just here to be passive spectators. After all, ’tis the season to be voting. This seemed to be the overall theme that circulated each booth, as banners in bold black font screamed similar powerful slogans that ranged from domestic violence to recycling water bottles. LA Weekly controversially suggested that print journalism is alive and kicking, posting black and red signs that read “Long Live Print” and “If You Can Read This, Print Ain’t Dead,” in its tent, Sure it ain’t.

In attempt to shield my eyes from the falling drops of smog-acidity, I looked down during the sporadic phases of rain, only to discover a trend within the femme hipster scene: vintage boots (even cowboy-style). A side note: I admit that I am a reluctant newcomer to the indie-electronica scene, largely in part because of its be-unique-and-snob-the-rest culture. But from my first festival’s impression, I found that this branch of “differentville” has its own patterned look that is somewhat admirable. Come on, who can pull off cowboy boots and paisley flannels outside of line dance club?

Either way, it seems like the alt-indie fashionistas sported a few noticeable fads that will probably get old by next week. For the guys: retro neon windbreakers.

Meanwhile, the day-crowd showed their patient enthusiasm despite the spontaneous bouts of rain, as they danced among the streetwalkers, shopped for stylish neon sunglasses, and satisfied their appetites with a food vendor of their choice.

The noon-to-midnight event might have been the epitome of hipster heaven, but that did not mean that the music was stereotypically and painfully obscure (yay!). Ear-pleasing, genre-mixing artists like Grand Ole Party, The Submarines, and Bitter:Sweet managed to draw crowds by the hundreds. Typically a stage-hopper, I actually stayed for the whole sets of all three bands and did not regret it.

San Diego’s Grand Ole Party kept the crowd moving, showcasing a impressive rarity in their makeup—a female lead singer who not only sings, but drums! The folky pop beats were loud and crisp as singer Kristin Gundred hit snappy snare hits and sang shameless lyrics: “Bastard child that I am/You can see it in my swagger.” Accompanied by two gentlemen, the trio’s crowd more than tripled in size by the end of their set.

The Submarines, the couple that broke up and got back together after writing songs about each other, performed their true story of sorrow-turned-glee in indie pop style. Carrying each note in perfect melodic harmony, the husband and wife convinced me that everything between the two is peachy keen, singing their xylophone-accented hit “You, Me, and the Bourgeoisie.” In theme with the festival’s setting at City Hall, the raspy-voiced Blake asked, “Are you guys gonna’ vote?” Pointing at her Obama-fied guitar, she and husband John were all smiles throughout the bubbly flower-decor set, interacting with the enthusiastic crowd in between each song.

Electro-jazz band Bitter:Sweet graced the stage with a harp, trumpets, and turntables, as the red hot singer, Shana Halligan, proved that she was more than just the daughter of former Blood, Sweat, and Tears member Dick Halligan.

The sun was quickly setting, paving the way for an epic night electro, indie, and yes, even gypsy punk performances. Latecomers rushed the entrance gates for the second time in hopes of landing barricade spots for their favorite headlining bands like a bunch of teeny-boppers.

As the last bits of muffled sunlight finally hid beneath City Hall’s historical tower, the scene became as energetic as the colorful spotlights beaming from all four stages. Forget that it was the coldest evening this week—thanks to rhythmic synthy bands like the Shiny Toy Guns and the Presets, my goosebumps caused by the cold quickly turned into goosebumps of excitement and awe.

Gogol Bordello and the Mars Volta ended the night. Gogol Bordello, known for their wild and defiant performances, attracted a crowd in the thousands that danced the night away to the fast-paced gypsy punk sound, painting the band’s undeniable stage vivacity. The Mars Volta, a love-em-or-hate-em band, made use of all nine members during their two-hour set, singing to unique guitar riffs and splendid psychedelic synths.

At the end, there was not a hint of dissatisfaction from the faces in the crowd at Detour, proving that gloomy gray skies in the middle of downtown can’t faze the thousands of eager spirits who came out with open arms and open ears.

Not bad for a newbie festival. See you next year!